Distraught
by doroniasobi
Summary: it doesn't work out, but it's probably not supposed to. — SanadaAtobe. /for HaveYouNoMercy and SilverCyanide/


Distraught

Atobe wants to fucking _strangle_ Sanada, to tell him how _awful_ he is, and screams '_Fuck you_' before marching right out the front door of their shared mansion – Atobe refused to have the two of them live in a run-down apartment because it wasn't classy enough to live in, so he says. Neither of them really remembers how the fight spawned or what they were talking about but they were both furious, and that was clear as day.

Atobe crosses his arms and repeats a quiet "Fuck you" as he makes his way down the street and makes an immediate hand signal as his butler opens his mouth to talk. He wasn't going to take the limo. At times like these, he didn't need to be sitting in a fucking comfortable seat to try and blow steam off.

From inside the mansion, Sanada's eyes are piercing and penetrating as he makes rigid steps up the stairs. He doesn't make eye contact with anyone and heads to the washroom as his mind asks him 'how many times has this happened this month alone?'

Sanada doesn't say anything, only lets his eyebrows narrow further.

They both know it's been too many to count.

* * *

"Again?" Oshitari asks. Atobe always goes to Oshitari because Oshitari is probably one of the only people who aren't intimidated by Atobe. He's not afraid of Atobe's yelling or cursing, and almost always has something logical to say when Atobe doesn't.

"Yeah. _Again_," Atobe snarls in return. His body is covered in sweat, because tennis is what he turns to, to let out stress.

Oshitari is just as exhausted now, and puts a hand on Atobe's shoulder. "Sorry. This time, you're on your own." Oshitari walks away, slings his bag and towel over his shoulder.

Atobe watches as Oshitari walks away, and slams a fist to his knee. He knows there's going to be a bruise there later, but honestly, he doesn't give a crap.

* * *

Neither of them speaks.

Cold wars are generally easy to deal with; they just don't talk. However, it becomes difficult when they live in the same house. And also, Sanada doesn't sleep on the couch, or the floor, or wherever he's supposed to sleep when two people are in a cold war. Atobe doesn't even consider sleeping on the couch – he fucking _bought _the house and he'd damn well sleep on the fucking bed after working his ass off all day – but Sanada doesn't, either.

And well, in the spirit of cold war, Atobe doesn't tell him to because that would require communication.

It doesn't stop Atobe from feeling a thousand times more apart from Sanada than he ever could, especially with Sanada lying right beside him. There have been times when he's had to catch himself from reaching over to curl an arm over the other man, out of pure habit.

Which was a perfectly good reason for Atobe to get the urge to demand why the hell couldn't Sanada sleep on the _couch_ the way couples did after a fight.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Sanada looks back at Atobe incredulously. He moves to the side to step around Atobe, but Atobe moves in front of him again. Sanada sighs.

"You know what? Keigo – it just doesn't work."

Atobe steps forward, looks up at him with pleading eyes, says he's sorry over and over, but Sanada turns his head, an action to just maybe stop listening, because if Atobe's going to repeat himself a thousand times, Sanada's going to stand there and listen to it.

And then Atobe is reaching up to cup his cheeks, to kiss him, murmurs 'I'm so fucking _sorry_'.

But Atobe must've forgotten how to kiss Sanada because Sanada pushes him away. Sanada has _never_ pushed him away before.

When Atobe is finally aware of what he has been doing, he looks up, and Sanada is gone. It is only moments later that Atobe realizes that Sanada had been saying something before, too.

"_I'm sorry, too_."

* * *

Oshitari often wonders upon seeing Atobe and Sanada if couples that fight frequently are really in love. He hasn't bothered asking anyone, either. Just the observation between the two is enough, because Oshitari has been watching the two of them for far too long to not understand _them_.

He wonders what would happen if the two of them _had_ made up after that. Would they have gone back home, hand in hand like they always used to do after some sort of fight?

Even now, Oshitari doesn't miss the way Atobe demands to go 'home' the longer way at night, only to pass by Sanada's new apartment to see if the lights are on. Oshitari watches and obeys as Atobe mutters to himself and tells Oshitari to drive faster because the streets are making him sick.

And Oshitari can't be entirely sure, but he'd bet all of Gakuto's money that Sanada feels the same way.

He can't do anything, though; he's picked their shattered pieces up for far too long, and he knows that if he continues doing it, the same thing will happen again.

Oshitari is an observer. He watches Atobe smile his beautiful, broken smile, and watches Sanada's expression become harder than ever before.

He watches the two as both of their backs become smaller and smaller with each passing day.

And again.

* * *

_Owari_

_~2010.02.09~_


End file.
